


Different

by nambnb



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:58:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9724787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nambnb/pseuds/nambnb
Summary: Hawke dealing with loss by the help of a certain male whore.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scher/gifts).



> Inspired by the basic idea of a prostitute!Anders of [draws](http://drawsshits.tumblr.com/).

The Blooming Rose drew in all kinds of people for various reasons. Some were looking for the obvious kind of purchasable fun when visiting the whore house, not having a spouse or feeling no guilt over betraying their vows. Others came to the Blooming Rose to offer their services on the other side of the coin.

Madam Lusine seldom took pity on these kind of poor souls, save for the times she was low on staff due to somebody having quit or being murdered – a sadly equal possibility if you had to make your way to and fro your work place during the dark hours around Hightown and had the misfortune to run into thugs willing to kill you even for a bag of mostly coppers and only a few silvers.

Another reason to hire somebody was if their looks already spelled money the moment they walked through the door. That kind of person had just recently been enlisted by her. He had come to Kirkwall with a shipload of Ferelden refugees the other day and had looked like he had not eaten anything of substance in weeks – which might have been true with the Blight swallowing up the lands and leaving nothing but tainted earth in its wake. But despite his haggard appearance there was a certain pride in his eyes and dignity in his posture, not to mention that his face definitely could be counted among the prettier ones. Surprisingly, he had not acted like some frightened soul chased by the Darkspawn, but had offered her a deal instead.

He said he needed a certain amount of coin and would work for her long enough to gain it, but no longer than a month, and then get out of her sight again. His conditions seemed ridiculous from a businessman’s standpoint, seeing how many customers he would have to serve to earn the sum he had named her. There was of course the alternative to rise in rank, but even if his face was pretty, she doubted that to happen anytime soon. He was also very keen on not being paired up with any kind of Templar, even though they were counted among the house’s most visiting and well-paying customers. The Madam already fully suspected him to be an apostate from that moment forth. She didn’t like the thought of getting into trouble, but before she could say anything, he readily informed her of being a mage and offered his services as a healer to all of her workers free of charge. That tipped the scale in his favor. A healer was a pricy thing to come by, some customers could get pretty rough, and the merchandise needed to be healthy for the monthly checkup of the Chantry to keep open business. The Chantry of course would only lend the services of a Circle mage for half a fortune, most likely out of aversion towards the profession for obvious reasons, but at the same time seeing the need for a place like the Blooming Rose to exist to keep down rape, sodomy and – Maker forbid –masturbation. With that in mind the Madam agreed to the strange man’s terms and warned him that the slightest slipup with magic would earn him a one-way ticket to the Gallows.

For all his self-assured demeanor, people weren’t exactly lining up the moment he had been placed to be on display in the main room, though. He appeared to be absent-minded for the most part and simply stared holes into the air when not politely smiling at potential customers. However, Madam Lusine soon noticed him to have the talent to make almost any customer he had managed to strike up a conversation with, to choose him on a whim, even if said patrons had been regulars of other workers. He was clever enough not to actively snatch away said customers from others on a regular basis, though. Apparently he valued his life to some extent at least.

One day, another Ferelden refugee stepped over the Blooming Rose’s threshold. This one was on the spending side of purses, even though the Madam could hardly believe it judging by his appearance. When she named him the price categories of the different types of services – adding that even for the cheapest price, which she assumed to be way over his income if he had any at all, someone might only touch him briefly just to get him out of her establishment. Still he was not immediately put off by her words. Instead he lingered for a moment before giving her his answer, checking the room for a pair of eyes that might catch his interest, and apparently found what he had been looking for in a pair of hazel. A too warm and half-sweaty exchange of fifty silvers later – he must have turned the coins over in his hands for way too long even before entering the brothel – he went and chose the Ferelden mage. The Madam sneered at him behind his back. Fereldens probably felt best when not venturing too far from their usual pick, even when out on an adventure, or whatever his visit to this particular place might mean to this man.

“Hey”, the strawberry-blonde man greeted his new customer with a smile far too friendly and genuine for a whore. “In need of ‘some brief touching’?”, he jested as he got up from his seat and was met with a tired if equally friendly smile.

“That would be nice.”

The dark-haired stranger followed the other to a small room up the stairs and glanced around the interior while the door was shut behind him. Then his hand was gently taken and he allowed the other man to guide him to the large bed in the middle of the room. He stopped in front of it however, prompting the prostitute, who had leaned himself back on his elbows in the expectation of his customer following suit, to sit back up.

“Too fast?” He gave him an apologetic smile and put his hands on the taller man’s hips, ready to unbuckle his belt, but choosing to ask if he was on the right track this time. “Do you need some stimulation first?”

“It’s not that.”, the man said and gently placed a hand on top of the other’s head, gently petting his hair before caressing his face with the back of his knuckles. “What should I call you?”

“You can call me anything you’d like.”, the question came back readily at him without actually being answered.

“What do other people call you then?”

“Usually something along the lines of ‘nuisance’.”, the sex worker grinned, but this time it carried a certain melancholy not unlike the one that seemed to have his customer in its grasp.

“I cannot fathom why they would.”, he said, adding his other hand to his face and appeared to ponder whether he should kiss him, but refrained from doing so and instead circled his high cheekbones with his thumbs tenderly.

“You just don’t know me.”

The new attempt at lighting up the atmosphere prompted a little smile appearing between bearded lips and chin, but still the man only looked at him. The prostitute gave him an inquiring stare, then lead his hands away from the other’s belt to lightly cross his hands behind his thighs and tilted his head to one side while keeping eye contact with him.

“If you’re not hear for sex then what is it you seek?”

“Can I lay next to you?”

The prostitute blinked.

Wasn’t that usually the point of a customer visiting this kind of place? He decided not to ask further questions now, though, and detangled his hands behind the man to enable him to move around and climb the bed.

The stranger had the grace to take off his shoes before he lay down on the mattress, and the strawberry-blonde man allowed him to pull him into a hug. A good amount of seconds ticked by with the taller man simply holding him in a loose embrace, but then he pulled him closer, tighter, his nose vanishing in chest area of the whore’s loose fitting clothes, and their hips and knees touching.

It was the strangest hour ever since he had enlisted himself at the Blooming Rose. Yet he found it oddly pleasurable just to be held close to another person’s body. For a moment he even entertained the thought of wishing for a chance to grow accustomed to this warmth, his smell, and the gentle yet sure strength he was held with. But he had a strange feeling that it felt better to himself then to the other, if the occasional shivers rippling through his body and repressed sobs were any indication.

He was from Ferelden. There was no telling what this man had gone through on his way to the City of Chains. At best he had only lost his home, at worst he had lost somebody dear to him, as well. The mage knew he was not supposed to use his magic on a customer, but he felt that a bit of rejuvenation never had hurt anyone before and it was hard to trace if you didn’t know it, aside from its targets feeling refreshed. But since tears and lying in a gentle hug were pretty much supposed to take your worry and stress away anyhow, he felt save in using his abilities a little.

He was surprised to feel the man stir in his arms almost instantly then, before he looked up at him with a certain realization in his eyes.

For a moment the mage felt panic of having been discovered, of having been a compassionate fool and likely going to be punished for it. But these kind of thoughts vanished the instant the dark-haired man smiled at him.

“Thank you, even though you didn’t have to do that.”

He did not say much more than that before detangling their limbs and getting off the bed to head for the door. Holding the doorknob in his hands, he asked without turning around: “Would it bother you if I came back?”

“No.”, the blonde man simply answered, but then added as he heard the locks turn in the door: “Madam Lusine will only let you through with coin, though. Shouldn’t you spend your hard-earned money on something else instead?”

The stranger paused in opening the door, then said “It was a good investment.” before he slipped out of the room.

 

He came back just one week later, then one week after that and one week after that one, too. The fourth time he was told that the worker he would have liked to see was no longer available at the Blooming Rose.

He didn’t come back to the establishment for another year.

By then the one he had been looking for would cross the threshold of this place together with him, on the way in and on the way out.


End file.
